


Quiet Places.

by goshikitsutomu



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, M/M, Tired Minho, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, chan worries a lot.., minho is jisung’s baby, oh yeah hyung line is barely there, please save him, they literally appear Once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 15:52:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goshikitsutomu/pseuds/goshikitsutomu
Summary: “...and he’s so thankful, so grateful; he feels so much and honestly? it’s overwhelming, but a good kind, and he’s clutching at Jisung’s pink sweater now, and his lips are moving faster, his eyes are tightly shut and he’s breathing, he’s breathing through Jisung’s lungs just like the lifeline he truly is.”





	Quiet Places.

The weather is weird, and that is the first thing he notices. The air is cold and yet also humid. Timid rays of sun are peeking in from the sky— only here and there. It’s warmth doesn’t seem to reach the place, to reach him. It’s simply not enough. His face feels hot and cold at the same time making him think that is the product of him getting somewhere close to four hours of sleep, and in that moment he regrets staying up for so long when he knew he would have a busy day ahead. A slow cloud of warm air heaves past his lips while his eyelids fall shut for a few heartbeats, meeting each other in a kiss that they’ve felt many times before. Kaleidoscopes lay themselves before him, aiming to present their prettiest colours, wishing to get noticed more than the others— and yet, this is all in vain. The cacophony of mismatched colours ticks him off. Hot reds and magentas, mulberries and ocean blues mixed together result in him snapping his eyes open with a scold in the making. The sight that his eyes take in now is much calmer than the hot, melting colours from just before. The sky knows how to harmonise itself with the help of kabuki brush strokes, they adorn the canvas with pale blues, greys and whites and just a little bit of yellow in some fortunate corners. All of the colours bleed into each other, weaving themselves into their neighbour and becoming one. The sight feels like a gentile caress to his sore eyes. 

He doesn’t know when his feet carried him through the waves of flashing, blinding cameras; he also doesn’t remember his ears ringing from overly excited adolescent bellows, but he is thankful. Thankful for all of it. For not going through the ugly part of being blinded or startled, but also thankful for the people that bothered to show up and see him. He knows better than to take anything for granted.  
His back meets the hard, uncomfortable navy plastic of the airport chairs, except he doesn’t complain, and he barely takes notice of it. He’s too used to it, and too tired to even bring himself to show any sign of indignation. The inside of the airport feels nice, feels relaxing. His skin can finally breathe as its pores and cells don’t feel like they’re about to be boiled alive, and his scowl seems to soothe itself out by the second. Alas, his slugged movements and reactions still give away just how out of it he is, and he can’t help but worry his hyung. The expression on Chan’s face as he shares a look with Changbin and Woojin leaves a bitter taste in Minho’s mouth. The man’s guise is nothing short of unadulterated disquietude mixed with his own tiredness. See, the thing with Chan is that he himself never takes care of himself as he should, yet goes and scolds everyone else that appears to do the same. Attentive to the bone and yet seemingly clueless to his recklessness when it came to his own health, that’s his hyung for you. 

The kids pick on it, too. 

Hyunjin comes first, dragging long legs with a refreshing carelessness, just as refreshing as his blameless grin. The whole getup made Hyunjin look younger than what he truly is. The aforementioned smile pushes his eyes into endearing lunulas, and makes his cheeks puff out while the dimple Minho ran his eyes over thousands of times just sinks into the soft tissue. In all honesty, Hyunjin looks nothing short of disarming, so he lets the boy slip into the empty chair besides him. He lets him talk about nothings in his purred tone of voice. He lets him run nimble and long fingers through his hair. He lets the boy try to soothe him out of his awfully acidic mood. Minho accepts all of them with closed eyes, and he barely participates into the conversation turned monologue on Hyunjin’s part.  
Yet, it doesn’t work and the younger can tell, he can understand as Minho’s eyebrows still scowl now and then; he decides it’s better to leave him be.

Ten minutes pass in complete silence and Minho is indifferent to it. He doesn’t dislike or finds comfort in it, so he doesn’t mind when Jeongin approaches him with a sheepish simper tugging at his lips and nervous hands playing with the sleeves hanging past his fingers. Jeongin, just like the latter, is disarming, but in a different way. While Hyunjin had a boyish, careless aura to him, Jeongin has a childish and innocent one. It makes Minho’s shoulders relax. Usually Minho and Jeongin wouldn’t hold hands, but this time the boy grabs the other’s hand in his slightly bigger one and hides it with his own in the oversized sleeve. Jeongin simply keeps quiet as he rests his head against Minho’s shoulder at the same time as his thumb draws random patterns on the latter’s palm. He draws bunnies, squiggly lines and random characters. Minho tried to decipher if the boy was trying to pass on words but all he got were nonsense ones, so he gave up after the third or fourth. Jeongin was the one that made his rigid posture melt away, and he noticed. The boy thought that’s enough from his part, so with a sneaked kiss on the elder’s hand, he slipped away to reunite with Hyunjin again. Minho figured the boy started missing his favourite hand to hold.  
He likes the way the two boys latch onto each other yet there is still room to breathe for both of them. He likes the quiet intimacy they share, and he likes how their eyes meet even in the busiest and crowded room, sharing silent love notes. They’re quiet lovers. Trusting lovers.

The third one, Seungmin, decided to not bother him and just pass him Pocky coated in strawberry topping. For that, he’s thankful. Seungmin is the type of kid to not be as big on skinship as the other two, he prefers to show gratitude or attentiveness through small gestures that hold meaning and show his true feelings. Minho thinks that Seungmin is a strange kid, but good nonetheless. He can be impish at times, awfully so, and then he’d surprise everyone by showcasing his love and affection, albeit in small gestures. So, Minho responds in a manner similar to his. He simply nods his head in sign of gratefulness before focusing on his snack.

Felix, the fourth one, feels different from his predecessors. Felix always carries himself with a different air from everyone else. Of course, that’s not a bad thing. While Hyunjin is openly loving and touchy, Jeongin is subtle with his affections and doesn’t like overdoing it, and Seungmin is simply kept to himself, Felix is playful and likes to take affection easy, making it into a joke yet still obviously showing he means everything he says. That being said, Minho really doesn’t feel surprised when Felix slithers next to him with what one would call a flamboyant approach to his usual personality. He doesn’t try to chase Minho’s sourness away with purred words, neither with secretive hand holding or treats. He does it by calling out to him by something along the lines of “Minho-ssi, now tell Felisé what’s been bothering you.” in the same pitchy and high voice that is nothing like his usual one. Minho takes notice of how versatile Felix is, and how he doesn’t get the credit he deserves. It saddens him, in all honesty. The thoughts do not get pushed to the back of his mind, but they do get quiet in favour of Minho amusing Felix and going along with his little play. Minho isn’t very sure what exactly he said, but he doesn’t worry about it, whatever it was made Felix throw his head back in an unbashed way that made even Minho crack a smile. Felix is content with that, and he leaves Minho with a light heart.

The last one to come by, Jisung, makes Minho’s hands accumulate perspiration in the slightest and his throat feels a bit insipid. Jisung has always had a different effect on him, he’s always been the odd one out of the bunch. While this might sound bad, it’s anything but. Jisung is much different around Minho when the doors are closed and the curtains are drawn, when only the night light is on and the residing sounds are some forgotten lofi mix in the background and their own heartbeats; so in sync they’re becoming the same heart, united for now and forever. At least, that’s what they hope for.  
Right now, Jisung is in one of those moods, and Minho knows it. Minho knows it’s best to get up and follow Jisung when he tugs at his sleeve, wordless and yet with slightly blushing cheeks, he said more than enough. He looks youthful, and he looks timid. Minho’s steps feel too light for his liking as he silently treads on Jisung’s heels, he feels a bit too flowy, but he keeps on trailing behind. He doesn’t question it when Jisung leads them towards the familiar hallways of the men’s bathroom and he doesn’t question it when the boy pulls a sign in front of the door to stop people from coming in. When Jisung wiggles his way up on the counter, his heart starts going ninety miles per hour. He know what is coming and he can not wait, so he simply closes whatever distance was left between them with bold strides. Hands come in contact with the surface on either side of Jisung, and his head tilts up. Jisung’s gaze was already trained downwards on him. His eyes swimming in worry, eyebrows drawn together and lips slightly pursed is the sight that meets Minho. He hates it. No words are exchanged, and they don’t have the chance to. Minho takes his slightly trembling hands and brings them to Jisung’s cheeks, they’re soft and warm like always, warm from the discarded mask, but also from his faint own embarrassment. The elder finds it cute. Rubbing the apple of his cheek with soft motions, he leans in and presses the slightest of kisses to the spot his finger just abandoned. Again and again Minho’s lips meet the boy’s skin in hushed whispers in form of osculations; they’re littered all over as to not let any inch feel unloved. If he could, he would try to explain to the boy just how great his love is with the help of kisses and caresses, but he knows it won’t be enough. His heart holds simply too much for it to be laid out in such few ways.  
Jisung’s expression slowly morphs from the previous to a now relaxed and maybe a bit more flushed one, however he doesn’t feel embarrassed for letting himself be nothing but compliant for all of Minho’s wishes and gentle handling; if anything, he leans in on one of his hands, putting just enough pressure to let the man know just how much he’s enjoying this. The first word Jisung managed to mutter was a silent “Hyung...” when Minho finally pulls his face away, but not his hands. The boy takes it upon himself to part Minho’s hand from his cheek, only to bring it in front of his mouth. Small tufts of hot air meet his palm for a few seconds, time Jisung takes to search his expression. He can clearly see just how tired he looks, eye bags pulling at his skin with faint purples here and there. Jisung doesn’t like them, so he presses gentle kisses against them. Jisung also doesn’t like how cold his hands are so he presses a kiss to each of his palms, trailing smaller ones on his fingers, not leaving any untouched. He feels content only when Minho’s hands start to feel warmer. During this all, Minho was close to turning liquid. His lips finally broke into his usual lovely smile, and his eyes finally started twinkling. Jisung took notice, and his own grin found home on his tiers. He feels liberated.  
Stuttering hands meet with Minho’s cheeks, pulling him ever so slightly before ultimately bringing his lips against the other’s. His movements are slow and soft. His lips are mellow, as if he’s afraid of shattering Minho, but he knows he’s not like that— Minho is far from being delicate. Jisung’s lips meet his in multiple leisurely pecks, they don’t have to hurry. Minho takes note of how his lips taste like strawberry, and it makes him smile between the affections. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Jisung... makes Minho feel safe and like nothing could hinder him, and he’s so thankful, so grateful; he feels so much and honestly? it’s overwhelming, but a good kind, and he’s clutching at Jisung’s pink sweater now, and his lips are moving faster, his eyes are tightly shut and he’s breathing, he’s breathing through Jisung’s lungs just like the lifeline he truly is. Jisung? He lets it all happen, he lets Minho hang onto him and take his oxygen because for him, he would do anything. And he does anything, no matter what, because he loves Minho and Minho loves him all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> hhh hello! thank u very much for reading, i hope u liked it and uHh pls don’t hesitate to follow me @ serachas, my content is Grade A ! pS: the title.. makes me cry.


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